The Singer of Hearts
by TimeoftheEye
Summary: What if Jo didn't die? What if she fell for someone else before the Rakshas could infect her? A half-Dhracian Singer visits Ylorc under the rule of it's new king, with a surprising gift that sweeps the teenager off of her feet. OC Jo
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: What if Jo didn't die? What if she fell for someone before the Rakshas could infect her? A half-Dhracian Singer visits Ylorc under the rule of it's new king, with a surprising gift that sweeps the teenager off of her occurs while Ashe and Rhapsody are in Elysian for the first time together.

Achmed, Grunthor, Jo and Rhapsody, as well as any other Symphony of Ages characters, ideas and places belong to Elizabeth Haydon. Lyrics belong to The Killers. No money is being made from this work. Please read and review. =)

**The Singer of Hearts Chapter 1**

The wind was cool as it flew across the heath, the long, spring grasses of the Kravensfield plain bending to the sigh of the earth after her slumber during the winter months. Across the skyline in the east stretched the Teeth and the lands of the inhuman Bolg, the rocky mountains, thin and pointed like a toothy grin holding up the sky. Landon stood on the road leading up to Canrif, now called Ylorc, looking up at the crags, awestruck for the threatening beauty with which they dominated the horizon. After several moments, he smiled and proceeded forth, his cloak whipping gently in the wind that blew in this untouched morning.

Deep within the Cauldron, the antechamber was quiet as Landon waited to be seen by the king of the Bolg. He'd heard stories all the way to the coast in Tyrian and Avonderre of the ancient seat of Cymrian royalty being wrestled back from the dank depths to which it had sunk in the last few hundred centuries, but he hadn't believed it. Now that he was here, he found himself delighted to see the stony chambers of ancient grandeur awakening from a nightmarish slumber. Although the inhuman beasts known as Bolg were everywhere in these tunnels, Lan immediately recognized them for their more civilized qualities, watching as the guards stood watch at the doorways or a passing band of soldiers marched down a side tunnel on his way here. They were warlike, brutal and ugly, to be sure, but they were not as monstrous as he and others had been led to believe. Afterall, he'd been escorted here with nary a threat of being made a meal. That had to account for something, didn't it?

Finally, after sharing a many uneasy and awkward smile in the silence with his sentinel, the inner door opened wide and he was asked to come forward. With a cheerful sigh, Landon stood and straightened his cloak, walking forward with an easy saunter, his eyes traveling over every surface with the awe of a tourist on a sight-seeing journey.

In the main room, a thin, tall man in dark robes sat upon one of a pair of thrones up on a dais, looking him over carefully with mismatched eyes. An 8ft monster of a man in heavy armor stood by his side, and a young blonde maiden sat off in a far corner, busily playing with a knife and barely casting a glance in his direction. A smile tugged at the edge of Landon's lips as his bright eyes wandered around the room. This was where Gwylliam and Anwyn had ruled the once great nation! Of course it's glory had faded with time and was crumbling and dusty, but it could not hide the whispers of ages and glory and the ancient breath of time hung heavy here. It was like touching the past through a glass window and watching it unfold.

Achmed's eyes narrowed as he took in the stranger standing before him. A young man no older than 20, with large, dark eyes and a slender nose topping curving bow-shaped lips. His hair was a dark brown, cropped short and close to his scalp, and he wore a light, sturdy cloak with rich-looking clothes underneath. His shirt was long sleeved and a light olive green, with a dark brown vest over top of it, embroidered with copper designs. His trousers were a light, greenish brown, almost tan and hugged his long slender legs comfortably down to calf-high and laced up brown boots. The young man's appearance all came together to speak of a down-played and rustic wealth with just the hint of vanity thrown in.

"What is your name and what do you want?" the robed figure said in a voice that was heavy and rasped, like sand trickling through an hourglass, holding a level of curt impatience in it. The voice of Death himself. Landon's attention which had been wandering over the room, instantly fell upon the man sitting on the throne, and he swallowed thickly to see the man's veiny and twisted features, exposed to the air. "My guards tell me you're a musician." Achmed said with an unkind smile.

Landon blushed unwittingly at the terse and almost crude tone in the king's voice, feeling flustered that his gift might not have been as well received as he'd originally anticipated. But licking his lips and clearing his throat, he straightened himself and regained the confidence he'd had when originally entering this room. "Yes, indeed, I am," he said with his head held high. "My name is Landon Cane. I'm a singer of great renown across the land and with a highly prized gift. I'd heard about the revival of the kingdom of Canrif and came to see it for myself and entertain the royalty, if I may."

"If you is lookin' for a job as the royal bard, that job's already taken," the heavily armored monster said in a thick accent.

"Yes, I believe our musical needs are being provided for quite sufficiently," the king said with a mocking smirk. "So, you can just take your little instruments and be on your way, not having wasted your time or mine."

As Lan stood gaping, he felt a thick fingered hand touch his elbow, the guard stepping forward to escort him from the room. He shook the man beast off and said coolly, "I don't use instruments." His hands splayed out and spread his cloak open wide to expose the clothing underneath. Where one would typically see, for a professional Namer or Singer or other musician, a hanging case for a flute or lyre of some kind, there was nothing but the clothes on his back.

A snort from the corner of the room caught his attention as the young teenage girl was now balancing the knife upon her finger and said with a note of derision, "A musician who doesn't play instruments? What's in such high demand? You must sing like an _angel_." The sarcasm dripped heavily in her voice, and she still did not favor him with a glance.

As Landon's eyes fell upon her, he stopped and stared for a few moments, his lips smiling crookedly at the challenge offered by someone who was obviously more bored with this conversation than the people who were involved in it apparently were. Before the king could agree with her however, Landon spread his arms wide in offering. "How about a demonstration?" he asked, looking at the robed king of the Bolg with a question in his eyes.

There was a long silence as the king just sat staring at the young man. He had things to get to and a kingdom to organize and plans to make. He really didn't have time to listen to some pansy sing his ear off with the false hope of being able to do so more than once. But there was something intriguing about this visitor. The pomposity and hope was enough to make his eventual rejection worthwhile. "Very well," Achmed said with a sneer and a bored wave of his hand, slumping back to lounge in the grand seat that he occupied. "But do try and make it entertaining and do something original or that I haven't heard before. With my own personal Singer, you can imagine how many times I've heard all of the old stories."

Yes! He was finally getting his chance! It hadn't been as hard as he'd thought it would be, but not nearly as easy as he'd hoped. Still, an opportunity had been given. That was all he needed. Breathing deeply, he adjusted his cloak so that it was out of the way of his arms and he held them out a little at waist level. Closing his eyes, he let out the breath he'd taken in, slow and letting the air whistle past his plush lips.

Achmed sat on the stony throne, his buttocks lounging so low on the seat that they perched on the edge, his legs touching the ground in a lackadaisical manner, his right foot crossed over his left knee and jiggled the thin booted foot with impatience. He watched with a sneer of scorn on his face as the young man prepared himself, and the expression faded quickly, his eyes opening wide when he felt a familiar hum enter the room, the sound of it prickling along his skin.

A similar thing was happening with Landon, except the low hum was being emitted by him, his skin vibrating with a sound that grew in tempo. Finally, when the "stage" was set, he opened his eyes and opened his mouth, his voice, clear and harmonious coming out with a fluid melody. Along with it, a sound began to flow as well, weaving with the words, almost like unseen instruments being played to the beat and tune of the song, vibrating in the air as if they were being played upon the skin of everyone in the room.

Console me in my darkest hour

Convince me that the truth is always grey

Caress me in your velvet chair

Conceal me from the ghost you cast away

There was a natural echo provided by the stone chambers of the Cauldron, but there was also a level of depth to Landon's voice as he sang the words. His face took on an animation and the room seemed to fill with electric life, sparking palpably. Achmed slowly sat up in his chair, his piercing gaze fixated on the man who stood in the middle of the floor producing these strange vibrations and emissions that articulated more to him than the words of the song verbally could.

Console me in my darkest hour

And tell me that you always hear my cries

I wonder what you got conspired

I'm sure it was the consolation prize

I heard you found a wishing well

In the city

Console me in my darkest hour

And you throw me down

I ain't in no hurry, you go on

And tell your friends I'm losing touch

Fill your crowd with rumors

Impending doom, it must be true

And about how you got lost, but you made your way back home

You went and sold your soul, an allegiance dead and gone

I'm losing touch

At the last chorus of the song, other voices, one deep, one low and one higher-pitched, joined Landon's singing in unison as his four throats operated together and his lips moved to form the words. And the hum upon his skin was joined by the rhythmical vibration of his nasal cavities to increase the tempo and volume of the stringed and percussion "instruments" playing along as the song reached a crescendo and finally ended as his voice fell silent. With a bright light in his dark eyes and the room sitting completely still, he bowed deeply, casting his cloak out to the side in a gesture of grandeur.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: What if Jo didn't die? What if she fell for someone before the Rakshas could infect her? A half-Dhracian Singer visits Ylorc under the rule of it's new king, with a surprising gift that sweeps the teenager off of her occurs while Ashe and Rhapsody are in Elysian for the first time together.

Achmed, Grunthor, Jo and Rhapsody, as well as any other Symphony of Ages characters, ideas and places belong to Elizabeth Haydon. No money is being made from this work. Please read and review. =)

**The Singer of Hearts Chapter 2**

The silence that followed the grand musical display was deafening, but none seemed able to break through it as all eyes focused on the man who stood before them, his feet shifting a bit nervously on the floor tiles. Jo, who had been sitting off to the side of the room in an ancient chair, now held the hilt of her knife loosely in one hand, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging agape as she regarded the stranger. There had been enough music coming out of him to sound like a group of four or five men, each with their own instruments to boot. How had he done it? She sat staring, amazed, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips, as if waiting for him to pull a band of people from his pocket or reveal the trick in some way.

Achmed on the other hand was far from amused, sitting leaning forward now, with both feet planted firmly on the ground and his hands gripping the arms of the throne he was sitting upon. Once again, his eyes scoured the young man's form, looking him over for familiar features that he knew from his own age of origin, but he could find none. For all appearances, this singer appeared to be a normal human, with smooth skin and strong features. But that tonal ability he possessed to create music of such multifaceted quality, all from his own body could only mean one thing.

"Dhracian," he breathed, when he could deny it no longer, his gaze narrowing sharply at the singer.

As if the uttered word broke the curse of silence, Jo was suddenly shaken into an excited exclamation and clapping her hands joyfully. "Oh my Gods! Wow! You're amazing!" she said with a small laugh, forgetting for the moment her tough facade as she rose and came over to the man, even as he bowed graciously with a charming smile. "Like a one man band! How did you do that?"

Feeling encouraged by her sudden attention after having suffered her scorn before, Landon smiled proudly and held out his hand to hers. "It's a talent I was born with," he said, reaching for her hands and holding them gently in his own. "And it all has to do with vibrations on my skin."

"Alright, enough," Achmed said with a sneer, fed up with the bubbly conversation the two shared, expecting his stony, rasping voice to cut through it and bring back the silence from before. What he didn't expect was to be ignored, but that's what happened.

"Oh!" Jo let out a small exclamation as vibrations hummed a low tone in the air and she felt it tingle across her palms and fingers transferred through the skin of the stranger and where their fingers touched. With a small laugh, she withdrew her hands after a moment, shaking them lightly in the air to get rid of the tickle that still covered them even as the tone stopped. "That is really amazing. And how do you make the other voices?" she asked, reaching forward to gently touch his neck with a light finger before moving it away politely.

"Shut up now," Achmed said a bit louder, his voice growing annoyed, standing from the throne.

Seemingly unaware that the Bolg king and sergeant were even still in the room with them, Lan happily replied, "I have four throats actually and I can operate them independently of each other."

"Wow, really?" Jo asked with a cocked eyebrow and a smirk. "That's kind of freaky. I mean, in a good way." She laughed a little nervously, hoping she hadn't offended him and shyly tucked some of her flaxen colored hair behind an ear. "Were you born with those as well?"

"HEY!" the harsh voice of the king rang out through the chamber, causing both Lan and Jo to jump reflexively and turn to look at him in unison, both blinking in alarm. With his mouth a grim line the king of the Bolg descended the stairs of the dais, striding threateningly towards the young man. His hand shot out from his side and shoved Jo out of the way as he came to stand in front of the singer, his eyes filled with a roaring flame and his tone deathly cold. "I think after such a _talented_ performance you owe me an explanation," he said with a low hiss. A knife appeared out of nowhere, long, thick blade with jagged teeth marking it as a hunting knife and he held against Landon's throat, even as the singer swallowed thickly. "Who are you REALLY, and what the fuck are you doing here?"

Landon's eyes darted worriedly around the chamber, suddenly sweating for no apparent reason. Never before had his performances ever gained this kind of reaction! Although he did have to admit, he'd overdone it a bit this time in order to impress them and get rid of the disrespect in their faces. But honestly, he was completely at a loss for why the king of the Bolg was upset. "I have no idea what you're talking about," Lan said, licking his lips and splaying his hands out in a defensive gesture, his body standing rigidly and trying not to move against the blade biting at his neck. "I am exactly who I stated in the beginning when you asked the first time. I just came here in hopes of impressing you and gaining more notoriety. Nothing's changed!" He severely doubted the king would be impressed after this, if Lan lived through the exchange.

"Oh, believe me, you putrid little worm," Achmed said through gritted teeth. "EVERYTHING changed when you decided to open your mouth and reveal yourself to be of Dhracian blood!"

For a few beats, Landon just stared at the other man, blinking blankly before his brow furrowed in consternation. How could he know that? Usually it was very rare for people to even guess that part of his lineage. Even those few times in the beginning of his Singing career when he'd had less control and had revealed the full extent of his abilities, just like he had a few moments ago. Mostly, if people did not admire him for his gift, they jeered at him and called him a charlatan, assuming the perfprmance was a trick of some kind. It had been years since he'd even heard the word "Dhracian" uttered in association to himself, not since his human mother had told him about his father when he was 12 years old. Still, Lan did not understand how him being part of that race was at all threatening to the king.

Achmed continued to hold the knife at Landon's neck threateningly, waiting for an answer. "Tell me!" he said pressing the blade a bit deeper so it nicked the flesh. "I promise you, I've been the author of enough bloodshed and have no qualms about slicing your throat right here and now."

Lan choked a little as heated liquid dripped from the small cut on his neck and he looked around helplessly, wondering what he should do or say; denial only seemed to make the situation worse. But before he could say anything, Jo, who had been shoved unceremoniously aside, stood at Achmed's shoulder and glared at the tall man's back. "Quit it!" she said angrily. "Gods! You're so frigging paranoid, you know that? You think everybody is out to get you or has ulterior motives of some kind! Believe it or not, not everybody has secrets or is trying to kill other people!"

"Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get me," Achmed murmured, not taking his eyes off of the singer. "Besides, there's good reason for it. So, shut up and back off or I'll slit your throat too. You were never indispensable."

Jo folded her arms and snorted, rolling her eyes before she responded. "Oh, and I'm sure all the neighboring provinces will gloss right over the unprovoked death of one of their citizens." She hadn't been paying much attention to all the ambassadors and meetings that were conducted in recent months, but she did understand that much about the state of affairs in relation to the kingdoms of Roland.

"The Li'tle miss is right, sir," Grunthor said suddenly. He still stood by the dais, watching the goings on stoically. He had felt the vibrational vibe off the man as well and had known instantly why Achmed had become upset by it. The feeling of the music had been very reminiscent of when Achmed had been on the Hunt in the old world, Serendair. A gift that was bestowed upon him by his birth among the ancient race. Still, the Bolg sergeant knew that it would come back to bite them in the arses if Achmed did go through with his threat and killed the young man. "It'd be a shame to 'ave gone through all that trouble establishin' ourselves as a kingdom in our own right, just to throw it away and create a war over a song."

Achmed continued to stare into Landon's eyes for several moments longer, searching them fruitlessly for the answers to the questions buzzing through his skull. Finally, he sighed silently and pulled the knife away, slipping it into his robes again with one graceful and fluid movement.

"Finally," Jo said with another roll of her eyes and an impatient sigh. "Glad at least some reason is getting through that thick skull." She started to walk towards Landon, but was stopped in her tracks as Achmed raised an arm to bar her way.

His eyes still had not left the singer's face, their gazes locked as the hand Achmed held up came and pointed at the young man's nose. "Make no mistake," he said in those same deathly quiet tones. "My demand for an explanation was merely a courtesy and it will not be extended twice. Now, _I'm just looking for an excuse to take your life_. These mountains are mine; one false move and you can bet your sorry ass, I'll hear of it and you'll be dead before you can exhale a breath after-"

"Yeah, yeah, blah blah blah," Jo said mockingly as she shouldered past him and linked her arm into the crook of Lan's elbow. "You're the psycho "king of the mountain", alpha male and all that jazz. We GET it. And I'm sure all your guests appreciate such warm hospitality." Then she turned with Landon towards the doors, the singer looking uncertainly back over his shoulder at the still angry king.

"Where are you going?" Achmed demanded in a terse tone, much like a father would to their teenage spoiled brat.

"To set him up with his own guest chambers and show him around Ylorc," she said over her shoulder. "Like a proper host should." With another roll of her eyes, she escorted Lan from the chambers, leaving the king of the Bolg standing there watching as they disappeared behind the heavy wooden door.


End file.
